Bullet For My Valentine

Bullet for my Valentine






He trudged along a dirt path in a clear, inky-black night. The bestial stars winked from above coldly, and the branches creaked with the south wind ominously. Caine sighed at the deadly facade. His fate says that these were the nights that something aweful will happen, as though it were hiding from the dark—unnoticed.






After a fair few minutes, the gates to the cemetery came into focus. As to Caine, every step towards it echoes every bit of despair and sorrow, like a cave who had witnessed man’s greed and pride. He himself remembers how he was abused, victimized… like a cat in fray.






The moon leaped out from his cloud as Caine thought furiously. How his parents treated him like dirt: A shout and bad words from his father after being beaten up, with blood trickling down from his mouth… A mother, who lay helplessly on the floor, and who, for Caine, didn’t give a damn about her son… These were all the things in contrast to other normal families. But as for their case, their family isn’t, at all, normal.






The crickets chirped as another thought revealed itself from its den. How he had no friends to trust on: A public outcry of joy from his classmates, for Caine was a teen living in eyeliner, black lipstick and tattoos… Hand pointing at him wherever he goes… but a face of a beautiful girl who stood for what she is: bold and beautiful.






Yes, he can definitely remember her… How she had looked at him kindly. She was there when he needed her. She was the only one who could understand him. She was the only one whom he had made love with, kissed with, talked with. But all of that is over, since…






A swirl of lights… a crash… and a thud.






He hated cars ever since. He hated everything that speeds up and crashes. He hated anything that is related to cars. He hated it…






God has forsaken him. He had forgotten him. Caine let out an anguished shout that forced out every bit of despair still with him, but never emptying…






He now walks toward a grave within the graveyard. A cross stood on top of it and an epitaph engraved the name, the date of death, and a message. He was now in front of his sweetheart’s tomb.






Caine leaked out tears before his departed loved one. He remembered his thoughts previously, how world had been so cruel…






I think too much, he thought. Something in his tone made me think that these have to be stopped.






He brought a deadly pistol and focused it on its bull’s eye.






“Bullet for my Valentine…” he muttered. And he muttered no longer.